Tuesday, September 06, 2011


Below ground, deep beneath the slate mountain, with only a candle for light. Hacking, pounding at the rock for hours on end, breathing the dust that cakes lungs and steals air. Life expectancy little over forty and all for a few pence a day. It was a living. It was a life. But not much of one.


We've been to a Welsh slate mine today and learned about working conditions in the 1860s. I'll have more respect for my roof from now on.


Grillyfish said...

It is amazing how much we take for granted without thinking about or even realising the effort taken to get it to us!

Hilary Melton-Butcher said...

Hi Anne .. those days - but it was part of life back then ... though it is 'ghastly' to look at ..

It always amazes me how man finds things that are useful to his life .. and then carries on working with them and adapting them.

Fascinating ... which mine was it? Hilary

snafu said...

The choice was work in the mine or starve, no choice really.

Ellie Garratt said...

And we complain about working conditions today.